


Electricity in Your Eyes

by ScarletEyesInTheNight123456789



Series: Windows Left Ajar [4]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Sexual Content, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:20:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26241799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletEyesInTheNight123456789/pseuds/ScarletEyesInTheNight123456789
Summary: Hisoka will lead, and Illumi will follow.(In order to get the most out of this fic, it would be best to read parts 1-3 first.)
Relationships: Gon Freecs & Killua Zoldyck, Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck, Hisoka & Illumi Zoldyck, Hisoka/Illumi Zoldyck, Illumi Zoldyck & Killua Zoldyck, Kalluto Zoldyck & Killua Zoldyck
Series: Windows Left Ajar [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643944
Comments: 25
Kudos: 113
Collections: Hunter x Hunter, Killua_and_Gon, Killugon, hisoillu nomnomnom :), hisoillu snacks





	1. Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone! Some of you said you were eager for more works in this series, and so I started brainstorming some more things that could happen.
> 
> This work will contain 3 chapters (they're all pre-written), and I'll be posting a new chapter once every week (or maybe more frequently than that, you never know). 
> 
> Additionally, there will be some significant violence and sexual content later on (although I don't personally think it's presented in too graphic a way), so do be aware of that. 
> 
> And lastly, just to be fancy, I'll be recommending songs to listen to that fit the vibe of each chapter. For this chapter, I'm recommending "Chlorine" by Xylø.
> 
> Enjoy! I hope this story is as fun for you to read as it was for me to write.

Illumi has always been conscious of every breath Hisoka takes. 

The birthday candles are lit and blown. The cake is cut and served. But all Illumi notices is the quick inhale to his left, the softest of sounds, the indication of a shift in Hisoka’s ever racing mind.

What follows is the sensation of long nails teasing Illumi’s inner thigh, out of sight beneath the picnic table. The feeling is gone just as quickly as it came, but Illumi knows that his ensuing arousal won’t be so quick to leave.

Damn him. Damn him to hell and back.

“Why so unresponsive, Illu?” Hisoka whispers, turning away from the open text messages on his phone screen. “You were positively lustful only a few moments ago. Very _hard_ ” – his thumb strokes over the bulging length currently responsible for all of Illumi’s woes – “to appease.”

“Unless you want me to completely sever our alliance,” Illumi says, his voice far more controlled than his body, “you should stop.”

“How cruel.” Hisoka makes a dramatic show of sighing like a damsel in distress. “But even if you were to push me away for good, wouldn’t the memory of my touch still haunt you?”

“Of course not.”

“Oh?” He looks a tad disappointed, but also a tad skeptical.

“I fail to see how I would have such a memory,” Illumi continues, voice quiet and stoic as he looks up to meet the electricity in Hisoka’s eyes, “if you’ve never properly touched me?”

Hisoka’s expression is one of amused disbelief.

The Illumi of yesterday never would have thought to say something like that. But the Illumi of today feels slightly more unbalanced, slightly more . . . _free_.

The only reason Illumi hasn’t gotten up and left yet is because he’ll never hear the end of it if his mother doesn’t get a chance to take at least fifty photos of Killua with each of his siblings. Unfortunately, Illumi does not have the luxury of being excluded from that.

His surroundings are barely comprehensible to him now, with the aching pressure of his desire distracting him. He’s vaguely aware that his grandfather is conversing with a guest, and that his mother is busying herself with her camera, snapping pictures of Killua and Kalluto as the latter envelops the former in a staged hug. 

Hisoka’s hand collides with his thigh again, but with much more vigor this time. _This is a test, isn’t it? Of how much I’ll tolerate from you._ Illumi shudders, about to combust, pinpricks of pleasure dotting his stormy aura. If he weren’t fighting so hard to contain himself, those pinpricks would be explosions.

Zeno’s eyes dart to him. Naturally, out of everyone here, it just had to be him who noticed a change in Illumi’s _nen_.

His gaze is unreadable. But Illumi suspects that he won’t get away with this. There will be questions.

Then again, does Illumi care about that anymore? He doesn’t know. And he can’t be certain as to whether that is good or bad.

/ /

The questions do come.

They come because, just as Illumi is about to head inside, Kalluto clinging to his arm and begging for a photo of just the two of them, Hisoka just so happens to show up right next to Illumi and plant a chaste kiss on his cheek.

Illumi catches himself before he can continue to stare at Hisoka like a dumbstruck fool for any longer.

That’s when he sees that the eyes of everyone, including the many individuals who are the Zoldycks’ most frequent clients, are on him. Kalluto’s mouth forms a perfect surprised o, Milluki’s jaw drops in horror, and Kikyo’s camera has fallen to the ground. She faints and Zeno catches her begrudgingly.

Illumi is aware that his grandfather is scanning his face for all signs of defiance.

But he also is aware that his face will forever be a blank slate, masking any and all emotion.

/ /

Minutes later, Illumi is in the garden, Zeno is walking beside him, and the first question is curtly asked.

“Why did you allow it?”

Illumi’s answer sounds rehearsed, because it is. “I apologize. I believed it would have been improper of me to reprimand him, what with all of the guests watching.”

“And were all of those people watching you a few moments before that, Illumi? Why wouldn’t you have been able to do something then?” Zeno ceases his walking to fix his eldest grandson with a calculating glare.

 _A few moments before that_. When Hisoka’s fingers were stroking him so skillfully under the table.

“It is unclear what you are referring to, Grandfather –“

Illumi doesn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he’s met with a resounding slap.

Pain blossoms across his cheekbone, and he needs to take a moment to reorient himself.

Despite the nature of his profession, Zeno has never been one for violence. Even after Illumi ran away as a child, even after the mishap with Kalluto a year ago, Zeno never bothered to raise a hand against him.

Until now, when Illumi finally pushed him to his breaking point by telling a blatant lie, something he never dared to do even while going through his rebellious stage in his preteen years.

His rebellious stage . . .

That stage never ended. He simply donned an obedient, unfeeling mask, but all masks are destined to be removed.

“The clown is to never come back to this place.” The rest of Zeno’s statement is silent, is implied, is written in his eyes. _And you are not to seek him out._

Illumi nods obediently. “I understand.” But he doesn’t feel conflicted about saying this.

Because this isn’t a promise that Illumi feels the need to fulfill.

/ /

The party concludes, Gotoh escorts Hisoka off the grounds, and Illumi goes through the rest of his day, but only after having his cell phone confiscated from him. Well, he never cared much for modern technology in the first place. The butlers install bars on his window while he reads through files at his desk and attempts to memorize information for his next mission.

His mission is in the morning, but his eyes are glossing over the words without taking them in. Making Hisoka forbidden has resulted in him being the only thing consuming Illumi’s mind. His brain hatches plans involving him and develops all sorts of questions revolving around him. Will he be daring enough to send a suggestive text, knowing too well that someone other than Illumi will view it? Is he waiting for Illumi to come to him? Or will Hisoka surprise him tomorrow by showing up at the home of the con artist whose life Illumi is supposed to take?

He doesn’t need to wait long to find out.

Later that night, Illumi is lying in his bed, waiting, when a glowing pink strand wraps itself around each of the bars on his window and snaps them clean off.

Well, that was . . . a very simple solution. Zeno should have known that a trivial thing like a physical barrier wouldn’t have been enough to keep Hisoka away.

Illumi’s never admitted to himself that Hisoka is beautiful, enough to hold the air in his lungs hostage whenever he gazes at him.

Hisoka jumps through the window gracefully, landing on the carpet without a sound. His eyes practically glow in the dark, brighter than any sun that could exist in this world. His violet hair is silky, his lips are full, and his lean build is seductive. Beautiful isn’t a precise enough word to describe him. He is completely and utterly mesmerizing.

“What would you say if I offered a proposition, Illumi? What if I asked you to run away with me?” His voice melts into the air like silk. It’s like something out of a dream, to hear those words coming from those lips, to feel that warm breath caress his skin.

But what he’s asking of Illumi is ridiculous.

“Isn’t that what you said to Aika,” Illumi says bluntly, “before forcibly awakening her _nen_?” Hisoka has ulterior motives for being in Illumi’s presence, the same way he had ulterior motives for befriending Aika all those years ago. He was cunning back then and is no different now.

Hisoka brushes the words aside as if that mention of his past doesn’t bother him on some level. “I have something planned for you as well. I wonder if you can guess what it is,” Hisoka whispers into the dark.

Illumi can feel the tension in the air, the excitement dancing off of Hisoka’s very being. “Something foolish, I expect. Or dangerous.”

“Mmm, it’s neither of those.” His fingers sift through Illumi’s hair, until Illumi pushes his hand away. Hisoka grins.

There’s a pause. A staring match ensues.

“Should I expect that you’ll tell me what it is?” Illumi says.

“No. You’ll have to guess.”

Oh, of course. He nearly forgot that he’s speaking to a man who lives and dies by his secrets.

“You’re tiresome, Hisoka.”

Hisoka laughs. Such a vibrant laugh for someone so sinister. “If that is true, then why not tell me to leave again? Why not berate me for climbing in through your window to rescue you?”

Indeed. Illumi _should_ be doing those things. “It would be beneficial for you to stay. I require your help with an important task.”

“Oh? And what task is this, my darling?” The term of endearment isn’t something he could have prepared himself for if he’d wanted to. It isn’t said with any ounce of affection, but it still hits him with the sort of warmth that no one should ever feel for someone like Hisoka.

“I’d like to ask for your assistance,” Illumi says simply, “in killing my grandfather.”

He doesn’t quite get the reaction he was expecting. Hisoka laughs, and he moves his lips to Illumi’s ear, where he whispers, “Now, now. Why invent such an outlandish excuse, when you could have simply said that you enjoy my company?”

He doesn’t believe him. He’ll need to prove that he’s serious. As for how to do that, he has no clue.

“It isn’t your company I enjoy.” Illumi slides his eyes along Hisoka’s red lips, along his muscular torso, and down to where the buttons on his pants are. A lot of possibilities enter his mind.

Hisoka sits on Illumi’s bed, patting the spot next to him. “Tell me more.” He lies down, arms crossed behind his head, and closes his eyes as the effervescent moonlight swallows him up.

That’s when something reckless unleashes itself within Illumi, just like it did when speaking with Zeno earlier. Why tell Hisoka what he means when he can show him?

Illumi sits on the bed, Hisoka’s eyes still closed, a faint smile curling against his lips in response to the creak of the mattress. Quicker than lightning, Illumi bends down and brings his lips to Hisoka’s smooth, painted neck . . .

A microsecond later, powerful hands have pushed Illumi in the chest, the wind has been knocked out of him, and he’s sprawled on the floor, facing up, observing the endlessly dark ceiling.

He remains silent. Hisoka’s _nen_ flashes across the ceiling, lighting it up with a blinding neon purple, before easing back into an indigo vapor.

Illumi doesn’t move. He watches and waits, his assassin instincts activating. After a moment, the room filling over with more of that eerie stillness, he finally sits up.

Hisoka is also upright, perched on the edge of the bed as though about to take flight and run somewhere far away, but his head is turned in the opposite direction so that Illumi can’t discern his expression.

Illumi never speaks in a cautious manner. His profession requires speaking assertively, pretending he is certain of himself even when he isn’t.

But right now, he chooses to speak quietly and slowly, wondering if doing so will prevent Hisoka from being set off even further. “Do enlighten me as to what that was all about.”

There’s lightheartedness in Hisoka’s tone when he replies. It’s hard to tell whether that lightheartedness is unhinged or very much grounded in reality. “So bold. You’re a new person now, it seems.”

Illumi wishes that Hisoka would look at him, even for a moment. If he only looks at him, Illumi might be able to make some sense of the situation.

But that isn’t true, is it? Hisoka is unreadable. Nothing Illumi does could ever result in him gaining a better sense of why Hisoka does the things he does.

“Did I upset you in some way?” Illumi tilts his head to the side. Illumi doesn’t feel sympathy the way most people do. He only wants to seek out more information about this puzzle of a man, this man who operates without any semblance of rhyme or reason.

Hisoka makes his way to the window, still open and overflowing with a fresh midnight breeze. It’s as though he’s choosing to ignore Illumi’s question. Maybe the question simply doesn’t interest him. Maybe he’s avoiding answering it. Maybe he was too focused on his thoughts to hear it being asked in the first place. As with all things when it comes to Hisoka, who knows?

Despite Hisoka’s aversion to his advances earlier, Illumi still reaches out and places his hand on Hisoka’s arm, which is clad in a stunning turquoise fabric.

Hisoka shrugs Illumi off like the gesture means nothing to him. Bubblegum pink glows once more and attaches itself to somewhere far down the tower, somewhere that Illumi can’t see from here.

Hisoka jumps out without another word.

Now that he’s gone, Illumi doesn’t know what he feels. Will Hisoka ever come back? He always does, but maybe this time is different.

If Hisoka never returns, Illumi will continue on. Life will continue to be filled with the watchful gaze of his elders pinned on him at every turn, the fear in Killua’s every ragged breath during their training sessions, and the gate keeping him trapped in this achingly brutal place that he has tried time and time again to call home.

He’ll always wonder who Hisoka, this mysterious _nen_ user brimming with lies, truly is. He’ll ache for the thrill that can only be experienced when those long, crimson nails trace patterns over his skin until he catches fire.

The only thing standing between him and what he wants is Zeno Zoldyck. There is a way to get around that obstacle.

His brain ignites in a way it never has before. His world is now alight with more possibilities than he knows what to do with.

He wanders around the room aimlessly, overcome with energy. That’s how he comes across a crinkled note that has been left on his bedside table.

He opens it up to see rushed handwriting.

 _I know what Hisoka’s hiding_ , it reads. _If you want to know, just ask._

For some reason, Illumi finds himself tearing the paper to shreds.

Gliding over to the window, placing the heel of his polished black shoe on the edge of the windowsill, he finally snaps, letting go of all logic and embracing the same impulsiveness that drives Hisoka’s every action.

It’s been a long time coming.


	2. Starfall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! This chapter contains my favorite moment in the whole series, and I'm pretty excited for you to read it.
> 
> The song for this chapter is "Northern Lights" by Blazars.

“Master Illumi? What has happened here?” 

That voice once told him a story that gave fuel to his fixation with Hisoka. He knows it well – assertive, but as entrancing as a melody.

He turns around. So pretty, isn’t she? Would he have wanted her instead, desired that willowy silhouette, dreamed of that rosy blush, if he had never met Hisoka? “Listen carefully.” A subtle flick in his mind is enough to fill his palms with dozens of gleaming needles. “I have plans to carry out. Interference will mean death, Aika.”

“I see. I won’t interfere then.” She smiles calmly, even amusedly, despite this sudden switch in her master’s usual demeanor.

It shouldn’t be so easy, yet it is.

But before Illumi leaves, there is one final thing he must know. He steps close to her, her soft breaths hitting his lips. “I presume you are the one who wrote that note.”

“Yes.”

“Elaborate.”

It makes little sense how she could know anything more about Hisoka than she has already told him. Her nails, painted a shocking lime green, drag across his temple as she whispers into his ear. “He does the things he does” – a wicked, flirtatious laugh emerges from her – “because you are the worst thing that has ever happened to him.”

Illumi is glad that nearly none of the butlers are faster than he is.

When he departs his room, he does so with the knowledge that his loveliest servant is comatose on the stone-cold floor and won’t be waking for days.

/ /

Gotoh is unconscious. Amane is unconscious. The few butlers to cross his path on his way downstairs were swiftly taken out with his pins. All the better to keep them from questioning where he is going and why.

At the bottom of the grand, spiraling staircase, Illumi comes face-to-face with Zeno.

His hands are clasped behind his back, his form almost fully blended into the darkness. His black aura, reminiscent of death, is at a low simmer. “What is your intention, Illumi?”

“I have not been the heir for a long time.” That is a title that was taken from him after the stunt he pulled on his own eleventh birthday. “I am no longer needed here –“

“And what will you do out there?” That is when Illumi acknowledges somewhere in the back of his mind that he will never be able to murder his grandfather on his own. It was madness that spurred him to believe he could. “Go.”

He must have misheard.

But he didn’t.

“Have a head start, if that will make you feel good,” Zeno says, calmness laced in every spiteful word. “You know full well that the butlers will catch up to you at some point. And when they do, they will drag you back here and inform you of the penalty for your actions. I assure you that it will be severe.”

No. Illumi rejects the possibility of ever returning to this place, even though that is what will happen.

“The clown has done a number on you. I hope you know that chasing after him will only end in disaster.”

The faintest trace of untrained _nen_ prickles the ends of Illumi’s hair, and he doesn’t need to look at the top of the staircase to know who it belongs to.

In that instance, a new resolution solidifies itself in Illumi’s mind. _I will come back for you, Killua._ He nearly forgot that he can’t live without knowing Killua’s every movement, every subtle improvement in his skills.

When Illumi continues forward and finally escapes this elaborate prison, he is reassured by the idea that his excursion with Hisoka will be short-lived.

/ /

On his way to Hisoka, a realization comes to him. He buries it for later use.

/ /

At the edge of the woods, Hisoka is waiting for him. Dawn suits him, with the way the first rays of light reflect themselves in his ember-like irises.

As before, there is no sign of a grudge, despite how their last encounter ended. But Illumi will take it upon himself to erase every barrier between the two of them, if it will get him closer to understanding the mind of one Hisoka Morow.

“Have you guessed it yet?” Hisoka asks, and Illumi only stares. “The plan that I mentioned.”

“No.” To see Hisoka be so carefree, not even questioning why Illumi is not carrying out his scheduled assassination in the next city over, makes his head spin.

“No? Mmm. You came so far to see me, but had no inkling of what we might do once we finally met up?” Hisoka’s sharp, persistent attractiveness makes Illumi stare longer than he should. No one blinks quite like Hisoka. No one else can replicate that alluring, yet deceitful, flutter of lashes.

“I recall you saying that it wouldn’t be foolish or dangerous, but I highly doubt that, knowing your ways.”

“You underestimate me oh-so-much, don’t you? A promise is not something I would ever break in good conscience.” Hisoka grins at the card flipping effortlessly between his fingers. It’s an ace of hearts that he presented to Illumi the first time they ever met, back when he was eager to show off every one of his magic tricks.

“A conscience is not something you possess, Hisoka.”

Fire wells up in Hisoka’s _nen_ , burning crimson.

Illumi almost mistakes it for rage.

Hisoka pushes him onto the ground, and Illumi has no intention of stopping him from carrying out whatever idea has popped into his head. Their breaths are both rushed and mingling, and Hisoka is pressed up and fitted against him like he’s desperate to fuse their bodies together.

“Here is what I have in store for you: I will give you what you want,” Hisoka says, panting. Through their clothing, Illumi can feel Hisoka’s taut abdomen, can feel the stiffness of his erection. “But only once you have earned it.”

In an instant, Illumi has thrown Hisoka off of him. A flurry of red and green leaves scatter about due to the impact of him landing on the ground next to Illumi, and Hisoka begins to laugh, resting on his side, facing Illumi with his head propped on his elbow.

“Fuck you, Hisoka.” But the statement only makes him laugh harder. Illumi doesn’t understand why he always falls for these tricks. Is he perhaps more driven by his hormones than he’d like to admit, enough to disillusion himself? “In any case, what is this pretense for, when you all but threw a tantrum in my room not too long ago?”

“Come now, darling. There are other ways we can play in the meantime.” His laughter finally calms, but he declines to answer Illumi. “Until your family inevitably comes to bring you back, I have something else to request of you.”

Illumi says nothing, still fed up.

“I’m intrigued to know how you will react to something I have learned.” Hisoka divulging secrets? What a nonsensical contradiction. Despite this ridiculous behavior, Illumi’s heart races ahead, skipping beats and jolting with intensity. “You are hopeless when it comes to kissing.”

Illumi blinks. There’s a long silence. _I don’t suppose you’ll help me correct that, will you?_ “Then isn’t it a good thing that I have interests other than kissing? Such as peppering your neck with bruises?”

Hisoka reaches out and grasps Illumi’s chin in the palm of his hand. “My greatest wish is to see you like a broken doll beneath me,” Hisoka says quietly, all but whispering, a penetrating glow in those golden eyes. “I shall be the one leaving you battered with bruises, Illumi dearest. I will lead . . . and you will follow.”

A feverish tremor dances up Illumi’s spine.

Hisoka speaks again, voice jagged with bloodlust. “Did you murder your grandfather, or perhaps your parents, to be able to join me today?”

“No.”

“Mmm.” Illumi frowns, the very air in the forest twisting tight with something indescribable. “You’re still the way I like you.”

 _You’re still the way I like you._ Hisoka prefers the Illumi of yesterday, the one weighed down by his mask.

Hisoka is now cupping Illumi’s face with both hands, as though he wants to possess him, consume him, destroy him.

The burning sunlight eases into a ghostly blue, the way it always does during sunrises in the Republic of Padokea. The last few stars are falling from the sky like rain around Hisoka and Illumi, their brilliant white light extinguishing upon landing in unforgiving tree branches and on brittle leaves.

Illumi’s reply comes several moments late. “I am not.”

A shadow casts a veil over half of Hisoka’s face. A second afterward, Hisoka tugs Illumi’s sleeve. “Come. Let us find out whether that is the truth.”

What happens next is so contradictory to Illumi’s personality that it seems to give Hisoka pause.

Illumi tilts his head toward his chin and begins to shake with silent laughter. Hisoka’s mouth becomes a rigid line devoid of levity.

“Yes. Why don’t we find out, Hisoka?” Illumi stands and starts walking forward, the last few fallen stars glowing a faint white. Hisoka is a predator, watching and waiting to analyze every move that this new, different, unpredictable Illumi makes.

Finally, he stands to join him as well. “Did you notice that one of them,” Hisoka says, focused on the right side of Illumi’s face, “is right here?” Illumi doesn’t know what he is talking about, but then Hisoka brings his mouth to Illumi’s skin, and his tongue drifts along his jawline, ravenous and ardent and insatiable.

Neon radiates and spills from his lips like dust when he pulls away. A red star. Rare, but extraordinary.

Hisoka smirks like he’s won a bet.

Illumi ignores him and leads the way out of the woods.

 _I will lead . . . and you will follow_.

/ /

Surprisingly, Hisoka is silent for the five minutes it takes to reach their arbitrary destination. He must be in a state of anticipation once more, euphoric in his silence, drinking in Illumi’s figure, waiting to see what he will do next to challenge him and force him to his knees.

The town square that they wander into is quaint and enchanting – in other words, the complete opposite of Illumi and Hisoka. Hisoka’s bright purples and blues and Illumi’s all-black attire do not mesh well with the soft peach and rosy pink hues of the storefronts. Toddlers giggle and hold their parents’ hands with cherubic smiles upon their faces, unbeknownst to the skilled murderers in their midst.

Illumi wonders how much of a head start his grandfather has given him. He wonders if he would attempt to hold Hisoka’s hand if he were a normal person, and if Hisoka would oblige if he were also normal.

Maybe what’s drawing Illumi to the candy shop, out of every other building here, is the association it has with childhood, a concept that has always frustrated him because of his inability to comprehend it.

“What is going on in that pretty head of yours, Illumi?” Hisoka smiles that same sated smile that he wears whenever he’s not in defense mode. He places his hand on the doorknob, right over Illumi’s, and opens the door for him.

“What do you think of,” Illumi asks, “when you see a place like this?”

“How philosophical. I suppose it reminds me of . . .” He makes a show of tapping his finger on his chin, pretending to ponder the question, as he strolls with Illumi through one of the welcoming, spacious aisles. “Ah. It reminds me of you.”

“Me?” He must be joking.

“Sugar is sweet, and so are you, my dearest Illumi.”

Unbelievable.

“This is the perfect hiding spot for us,” Hisoka continues. “Which butler would think to look for you here?” Hisoka locks taunting eyes with the cashier, the only other person in the shop with them.

The teenage boy sweats uncontrollably, before dashing out from behind the counter and exiting the shop.

Hisoka may be browsing the gum selection at the moment, humming casually, but Illumi knows that his peripheral vision is utterly focused on him like a laser beam.

“Hisoka,” Illumi begins, intending to catch him off guard out of vengeance for all the times that Hisoka has done the same to him, “I believe I have enough information to infer something about you.” Hisoka continues to hum. Illumi allows a pause, thinking of what he pieced together on his trek through the woods to meet Hisoka.

He may be jumping to conclusions. But he considers Aika’s description of a child Hisoka, well dressed and living in a wealthy town on the outskirts of Meteor City. He considers her account of the insurmountable, terrifying aura at Hisoka’s disposal that must have been trained and honed at an incredibly young age.

And then there’s that look in the adult Hisoka’s eyes. The look of someone who, before even reaching his teenage years, broke free of any and all restraints placed upon him, implying that there were overwhelming restraints to begin with.

“I believe that you were a child assassin as well,” Illumi states with conviction. “Am I incorrect?”

The air feels as though it has been cut through with a knife. Hisoka directs his full attention to Illumi.

There is murder in that gaze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos and comments I've received for this series so far.
> 
> My favorite part was the stars falling out of the sky. Before I knew what this fic would really be about, I came up with chapter titles that fit the tone I was going for, and then I tried to come up with ways to make the chapters fit the titles lol. Kind of a strange writing process, I know. But that's how that scene came about.
> 
> Chapter 3 will be posted next weekend.


	3. Fantasy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're down to the final chapter!!!
> 
> The song for this chapter is "Shadows" by it's different, ft. Miss Mary.

Many things happen at once.

Lightbulbs explode. Shelves crash. A string of _nen_ wraps around Illumi’s neck.

Hisoka isn’t in control of his own aura, Illumi realizes. It’s acting of its own accord. 

The moment the suffocation begins, the instant his lungs let out their first searing plea for air, is the moment he realizes that Hisoka’s power is not something he has ever seen before.

He could obliterate mountains and crush civilizations, all while wearing that eerily blank expression and blinking those soulless golden eyes.

In Illumi’s delirium, he understands what Aika meant. As his world becomes a series of colorless, jumbled images, he understands that, in defying Hisoka’s every expectation, he has become the worst thing that has ever happened to him.

He was the perfect broken ornament for Hisoka to play with, but now he is quite the opposite, pointing out a fact that Hisoka must have spent a lifetime trying to forget.

And Illumi may very well die for it, if Hisoka opts to not hold back his strength.

His surroundings fade partially to black, a snap rings through the sugary sweet air, and Illumi falls to the ground, his head shattering while two hands squeeze his throbbing windpipe.

“How do you feel now, Illumi?” The words contain no emotion.

“I have experienced worse during my training sessions,” Illumi manages to say in between his chokes. “I expected worse from you. This is child’s play.”

The hands let go. His vision clears up.

Hisoka is breathing calmly above him, a horizon of ivory skin and scarlet lips and honey irises. His mouth is begging to be rendered swollen by kisses, with how uncharacteristically mundane and emotionless it is.

“Am I bruised and battered to your liking?”

“Shh.” Hisoka gently places a finger against Illumi’s lips. His stare is filled with something raw, something wild and inconceivable. “Why bother with my past, when your present is so troubling? Your preoccupation with me has resulted in you not noticing Killua’s latest nighttime escapades.”

Illumi tried to beat Hisoka down with his question about the past, but now Hisoka will checkmate Illumi into the ground with the crucial bit of information that he so proudly announces to him.

“Did you know,” Hisoka says softly, “that Killua has a tourist friend in the nearby village? One his age with rather spiky hair and a dazzling smile. So dazzling, in fact, that it appears young Killua is very taken with this newcomer. Oh, if only his feelings could be returned.”

Illumi stays motionless upon the floor, rock candy and chocolates of every type still drizzling out of the enormous cracks in their respective glass dispensers. Hisoka speaks again, vocalizing exactly what Illumi is thinking. “You have neglected your brotherly duties in order to pursue me.”

He has.

He has failed the heir, the future of the family. Illumi would be shaking if he hadn’t been taught from a young age to control his every movement. His gut twists in humiliation.

Hisoka knows him well. He knows that the way to break Illumi is to communicate how he has failed in carrying out his greatest responsibility.

Illumi’s mask slips. His trembling is imperceptible, but Hisoka must be able to sense it.

“ _Oh_ , Illu. You are perfection like this.” Hisoka leans down and presses a too-delicate kiss to his forehead. Illumi doesn’t react. “So fractured and ruined because of me.”

Hisoka has finally received the quiet, submissive Illumi that he yearned for. Hisoka always gets what he craves in the end.

Illumi was a fool to assume otherwise.

“I believe you have earned your reward.” Hisoka’s arm curves around Illumi’s waist, and he drags him up and into his lap. “Tell me what you would like.”

What he would like? He would like to go home, no matter the consequences he’ll encounter when he does. He needs to confront Killua, force him to confess his wrongdoings, shake the truth out of him until his head rattles.

“I . . .” He wants to tell Hisoka that there is nothing he could ever want from him, that he is an abomination that has led him off his path. “I want to be inside of you. I want to feel you.”

The answer shocks Hisoka, as well as Illumi. Hisoka’s mouth parts slightly in awe, before bending into a smile.

“Isn’t it amazing,” Hisoka whispers, “how, even after what it has cost you, you still allow your most primitive instincts to push you towards me?” Illumi’s breath hitches as he drags his fingers across Hisoka’s waistband. Hisoka is right. But _magnetic_ is the word clouding Illumi’s consciousness, nearly making him forget the immense guilt welling up inside of him.

 _Magnetic_ is the way their cocks grind against each other through fabric, teasing Illumi and coaxing moans out of Hisoka. _Magnetic_ is the way Hisoka brings his mouth to Illumi’s like it was always destined to, his tongue flicking at the seam. “Perhaps you aren’t as adept at this as I presumed,” Illumi says, his breaths flickering in and out.

Hisoka studies him, most likely wondering how Illumi could have conjured up such a bold claim after being torn asunder by his revelation concerning Killua’s secret. “What gives you that impression?” Hisoka bites Illumi’s lower lip, tearing through skin and drawing warm blood. Illumi shudders, nearly coming undone. “Or rather, that _very false_ impression?”

“Pleasure is not something that assassins are good at giving. Pain is what they specialize in.” He looks Hisoka directly in the eye and meets a blank stare once more.

Hisoka slams him to the floor and looms over him again. Illumi’s headache is delectable, like a sugar rush, just as he hoped it would be when he uttered the taunting statement. This is what he deserves. “Dolls are meant to sit still and look pretty,” Hisoka says. “You have already accomplished the latter part. Or does sitting still not suit you? Do you want me to punish you, I wonder?”

A punishment is what Illumi needs. He must face repercussions for his ineptitude as a brother, as an assassin, as a Zoldyck.

And Hisoka, with his stark immorality and lack of conscience, is the right person to deliver such repercussions.

“You and I are not so different after all, are we?” Illumi lets out a humorless laugh, even if only for a second. Laughing is such an unfamiliar sensation to him.

Hisoka grabs the cotton covering Illumi’s shoulder and tears it off in one clean motion, as retaliation for those words. He sucks on his shoulder, igniting blissful pain, and works his way to his trapezius, and then to the side of his bare neck, branding him with stinging bruises. Illumi tugs Hisoka’s hair, such an unusual, sensual color. The warmth of Hisoka’s lips, the warmth of his breath, is a fantasy upon Illumi’s exposed flesh.

 _More_ , Illumi would beg if he were someone else. But he was never bred to voice his desires, and so he’ll demonstrate his yearning with his body, a vessel he has honed to be versatile enough for this purpose.

His hips buck, and he yanks at Hisoka’s shirt until it’s off. He takes in the smooth planes and ridges of his torso, and his nails dig into his unmarred back, leaving it ridden with passion-infused wounds.

“ _Ahh_ ” is the exhilarated response Illumi gets for this small act of violence, this physical manifestation of bottled-up carnality. Hisoka pushes his hips against Illumi’s to counter this. He slams Illumi’s skull into the wood paneling again, and the atmosphere explodes.

Recovering quickly, Illumi makes for his pants buttons, but Hisoka heaves his hand away, undoing them for him, tearing the zipper off and flinging it behind him, where it clashes through a glass display case. “Do you remember who is in charge here, Illumi?”

Hisoka slices a line of cloth from his discarded shirt, and binds Illumi’s wrists together, shoving them to lift high above his head. “Am I your first?” Hisoka’s face is incandescent, lighting up with intrigue as he licks his lips.

Illumi nods, thrusting his hips upward again to urge Hisoka to hurry up. The clown only chuckles at his eagerness. “Being silent, I see. Good. So good, Illumi.” In other words, Illumi has finally learned his place as someone subservient to Hisoka. “This will be worth your while.”

Illumi could break these makeshift cuffs if he so chose, but that would result in another punishment, and another delay in getting what he needs.

He needs to behave himself, as Hisoka would put it. He is capable of it, but it is excruciating.

Hisoka unbuttons Illumi’s shirt and guides his arousal, ready and waiting, out into the open. It’s strange to make himself vulnerable like this, especially under Hisoka’s intense gaze. What feels like a century later, Hisoka eventually abandons the remainder of his clothing, and his own hardness is the perfect length and size, mouthwatering in the way the glistening white substance seeps down from it and lands on the inside of Illumi’s thigh.

He thought Hisoka would want to be on top. But he flips their positions. “What is it I remember you saying earlier? That you wanted to be the one inside of me?”

Illumi knows the catch to this all too well. “It should be the reverse,” Illumi replies. “You should dominate.”

Evidently, that was precisely what Hisoka hoped to hear. “And I will. How acquiescent of you.” He flips Illumi onto his back once more, testing his patience, lifting the hem of his shirt and trailing open-mouthed kisses down, down, down. “Should I do it now?” he teases. “Or prolong the inevitable?”

“Now.” The words are so quiet, but Hisoka must have heard them, since he smiles.

“Then now it shall be.”

The first thrust is tender.

The second is accompanied by the bruises that Hisoka’s callous hands leave on Illumi’s arms and waist.

The third takes Illumi’s breath away.

After that, he stops counting, letting waves of pleasure and pain take him where they will.

 _More, more, more._ He knows Hisoka can detect the invisible words in Illumi’s every movement, in his every infinitesimal gasp.

He is worthy of being used like this, to have his hair pulled and marks bitten into existence upon his neck, until tears form in his eyes unbidden. He relishes this feeling of being corrupted by Hisoka’s touch, of becoming tainted by his every thrust.

“I will forget about you after this, darling.” Hisoka kisses the tears away, pulling out and stroking the tip of Illumi’s member. Their orgasms are simultaneous, and deafening arousal consumes them both. “I have had my fun. But you? Will you manage to forget me?”

Illumi blinks, more hot liquid spilling down his cheeks.

“I will.”

Hisoka’s sinful laugh rings through the deserted shop, because they both know that that is a lie.

/ /

Just after they’ve finished dressing, just after Illumi has used his pins to conceal his injuries, and just before the two of them part for good, Hisoka places one last soft kiss on Illumi’s closed lips. It’s a way to mock him, mock him for everything he has given up for Hisoka.

With that, Hisoka brushes the dust off his shoulder.

He moves forward, passing Illumi without looking back.

/ /

Illumi stands at the edge of the forest. Someone has come to retrieve him.

It isn’t a butler. It’s Killua.

Illumi is motionless for a moment, deciding in the end to step into the shade to meet his brother.

“They sent you?”

“I volunteered to get you.” A sparkle of blue dances around Killua’s pupils. “Are you okay?”

He has never once exhibited concern for Illumi, in all the time that they’ve known each other. “It is my job to ensure your well-being. Not the other way around.” Killua shrugs, although he still seems unsettled.

And why wouldn’t he be? Only hours ago, he witnessed his stoic older brother behave in ways he never has before. When Killua glances up at Illumi, it’s with confusion, like he no longer has a grasp on who Illumi is.

They begin walking. They don’t say anything else to each other for a long time.

“Why did you come back?” Killua asks an hour later, his voice echoing past the evergreen trees.

“I always intended to.”

“Why?”

“For you.” Killua stops in his tracks. “So that I can mold you into who you will become.”

And then Killua does something that surprises Illumi. He smirks. “Why? So that you can take your mind off of him?”

It’s like a punch to the gut.

“Aniki,” he continues, “keep doing what you always do. Train me. Threaten me. Search for me when I run away. But at some point, I’ll hide somewhere you can never find me.” 

He will. And the day that that happens, Illumi will be left alone with only his thoughts to keep him company.

The numbness will lift, and he will remember Hisoka.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm excited to know what you thought of the ending, and the fic as a whole!
> 
> While I was writing this chapter, I took it scene by scene and wasn't completely sure what was going to happen, so I was just as surprised as you probably were by how things turned out. I didn't expect such a sad ending lol.

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think? Feel free to leave kudos or a comment. Is there anything I could improve upon in my writing? Was there a particular quote that stood out to you?
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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